


Time Can Do So Much

by Writingwife83



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 1960s Music, Alternate Universe - 1960s, Drama & Romance, F/M, Light Angst, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 17:12:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7114909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly is feeling every sort of wonderful emotion on the night of her and Sherlock's first date. She could never have guessed the sort of turn that night would take.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Can Do So Much

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likingthistoomuch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likingthistoomuch/gifts).



> When likingthistoomuch suggested that I should do a song fic for Sherlolly with Unchained Melody, she had no idea that she was playing my feels and instantly roping me in...seeing as that's the first song my husband and I slow danced to some 14 yrs ago! :'D So this is what came of the prompt! It's not only a 60's AU, but also an AU of HLV...if you squint lol. It's also a bit angsty, but I think even those of you who dislike sad fics will be able to read and enjoy. You're welcome to whine at me afterward if you don't. ;)

Molly tucked a bit of hair behind her ear and took another sip of her wine. She was hyper aware of how shaky her hands were and felt that maybe it was better if they just continued gripping the curve of the glass. It seemed silly that she should be this nervous. She'd been on plenty of first dates, which included so much unknown and so many question. But ironically, when it came to this man she'd known for many years now, her jitters were all the more intense. Not that this was just any man, after all. This was Sherlock Holmes.

She smiled at John and Mary who were already out on the dance floor and enjoying the lively music. She was rather glad they'd planned to meet the Watsons at the dance hall tonight, seeing as Sherlock ended up being far later than he thought he would be. At least she had them while she waited. It was now nearing an hour past when they'd originally intended to meet. Molly wasn't likely to complain though. She'd waited this many years for the walls around Sherlock's heart to crack and crumble. What was an extra hour in the grand scheme of things?

It was a week ago now, that Sherlock had shown up at Bart's hospital during a late shift of hers and simply crossed the room to take her in his arms. He mumbled something into her hair about solving a particularly trying case and almost having been shot, but then killing the suspect instead. When she asked him why he'd come to see her, he simply said he didn't know. But despite his lack of explanation, he only held her closer and seemed to want nothing more than to breathe her in as if she were the very air that his lungs needed. Eventually she'd pulled her head back from his chest, and that's when his lips instantly found her's. Sherlock Holmes did nothing halfway. So as intensely as he'd been avoiding that sort of thing for so long, the turnaround was equally, and wonderfully, as intense. And as soon as they'd come up for air, the first thing Sherlock murmured as he cradled her face was, "dance with me."

Molly smiled to herself, remembering how he hadn't clarified at first, and she thought he wanted a dance right then and there. She was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to put one foot in front of the other after the sort of kissing they'd just indulged in, so that was one reason it was a relief when he'd actually explained himself and asked if she'd _go dancing_ with him that following weekend. Of course she'd said yes, and had even managed to avoid screaming the additional, _"finally!"_

"I'm so sorry, love," Mary said, taking a seat next to Molly as John went to get them some drinks. "Shouldn't he be here by now?"

"I'm sure he'll be here any second," Molly said cheerfully, though she was admittedly beginning to wonder whether Sherlock would be physically present for their momentous first date.

She smiled at Mary though, and then self-consciously adjusted her light blue dress for about the twentieth time. The happy color along with the cheery embroidered yellow daisies near the hem did make her feel unusually pretty…if only there were anyone here to take notice.

Almost twenty achingly long minutes later, the always suave looking consulting detective finally strolled into the dance hall and over to their table, immediately sitting down next to Molly and bringing the palm of her hand to his lips for a warm kiss.

"Forgive me, Molly," he whispered, looking adoringly into her eyes. "Unfortunately I couldn't help being delayed."

"It's ok," Molly answered with an accompanying pleasant blush on her cheeks. She couldn't be bothered that he was so late…because he was there now and making her heart beat faster with a simple look.

"Well then…" He grinned and grasped her hand more firmly. "Perhaps we should stop wasting any more time and good music, hm?"

Molly barely had time to nod before he jumped up, pulling her enthusiastically onto the dance floor with him. He said a brief hello to John and Mary, but then his was completely on Molly. It seemed that the only thing on Sherlock's mind was the music and the woman whose hand was in his.

Molly was quite literally swept away by it all. Sherlock seemed to dance just like his mind worked; with more skill and precision than many others. He was enjoying himself more than she would have thought. Sherlock always held back and restricted himself, denying himself simple pleasures that others regularly indulged in. So to see him dancing so happily…it was as surprising as it was impressive.

At one point, as they took a brief break to cool down and have a pint, Molly asked Sherlock over the music, "What happened tonight anyway? Was it a case?"

Something shifted very slightly in Sherlock's expression, but he gulped down more of his beer and then gave Molly a small smile. "No, not exactly. It's not important right this moment…I'll tell you later." And with that he was eager to get back on the dance floor, making Molly forget that she had asked him anything at all.

The crowd began to thin a bit around midnight, and finally it seemed that Sherlock had hit some sort of a wall. As they walked slowly off the dance floor, he pressed a kiss to Molly's temple.

"I'm going outside for a smoke," he whispered in her ear, and was halfway to the double doors before she could even answer.

Molly went back over to their table and saw that John and Mary were gathering their things. "Oh, are you two leaving?"

"You don't have to pretend to be disappointed," Mary said with a teasing smile. "I can't imagine you'll be sorry to have a bit of alone time with the dancing detective!"

"He truly was in rare form tonight," John said, shaking his head and laughing. "You really seem to bring out a wonderful side of him, Molly…I'm glad you two have each other now." He gave her a very genuine smile.

Molly blushed. "Yeah, I am too." She laughed nervously. "I mean, it is early days though. We're just, y'know, seeing how things go." It was the kind of thing that one would typically say at the start of a relationship. But even Molly herself knew it was a bit of a stretch. They weren't just seeing how things were going…they were both already in about as deep as they could be.

"Where is Sherlock anyway?" John asked.

"He's outside having a smoke, so you can see him on your way to get a cab. I'm going to run to the loo, but I'll see you two later."

Hugs were exchanged and Molly parted ways with the Watsons. When she came out of the loo a few minutes later, she still didn't see Sherlock inside. She gathered both their coats and her purse and walked over to the exit and pushed the swinging door open, seeing Sherlock leaning on the brick wall outside. He was staring up into the sky and slowing puffing away, his cigarette nearing its end.

"Hey there," she said cheerfully. "Did you see the Watsons before they left?"

He turned to look at her and for a moment she could have sworn his eyes looked a bit red rimmed. He blew out another puff of smoke and then dropped the remainder of the cigarette on the ground to stamp it out.

"Yes, I spoke to them," he answered flatly.

"Oh…ok."

Something had changed, something drastic. He had gone from carefree gleeful Sherlock to the more typically stoic machine of a man that she had seen so often.

He stuck his hands in his pocket, and strolled a few feet from the building, staring up at the sky again. Molly walked over and laid her coat and his earlier discarded jacket and tie on a nearby bench. She went over to him where he stood in the dim lighting that peeked through the partially open door of the dance hall.

"Sherlock?" Molly asked, and hoped it was enough to prompt some sort of explanation for the shift in mood. When he turned to look at her again, she knew that whatever was coming wasn't good.

"Thank you for tonight, Molly," he said softly. "I've enjoyed myself…probably more than I deserve to. And I have to apologize now, because we can't do this again."

Molly frowned. "What? Why not?"

He swallowed hard before answering. "Because…I'll be gone."

"Gone where?" Molly felt panic rising inside her now. "You mean on a case?"

"Not a case exactly. But it is an assignment. It was my brother I met with this evening, and he informed me of a particular mission which I'm requested for…a trip in Her Majesty's service.."

Molly inhaled sharply. She'd known for a long time that Sherlock was connected to MI-6, but he'd never really seemed to be called up for any sort of work for them. She surmised this was likely something to do with the Soviets and if they'd come as far as to call up Sherlock for it, it was probably highly dangerous.

"But w-why you? When are you going? For how long?" She shot the questions out, unable to hold back her desperation for answers.

Sherlock released a heavy breath, looking like it pained him to do so. "Because I possess the specific skills they need…tomorrow…and for six months." He eyed her sadly.

Molly's jaw dropped. "My God, six months? And they're making you leave so soon!" She ran her fingers through her hair, scraping against her scalp. This was horrible, the worst sort of news she could possibly have received at this moment. But one more look at his distraught face brought her around again.

Molly crossed the small distance between them and cradled his face, looking up at him with a small but brave smile. "It's ok! It'll be just fine, I know it. Six months will absolutely fly by! And then you'll come back and we can pick up right where we left off!"

Sherlock didn't seem comforted at all, and he only reached up to remove her hands from his face. He looked down with some intensity at how his large hands had completely engulfed hers, and the expression on his face was making her more and more nervous. Finally, he looked up at her again. "Molly...I won't be coming back." The admission was quiet.

Molly tilted her head and peered at him in confusion. "But, if the mission is for six months, why wouldn't you be-"

Her mouth hung open once again and her breath froze in her throat as she processed the silent and horrifying answer that hung between them. That prompted her to step away from him, looking wide eyed and horrified. She turned and walked a few feet away, putting distance between them again as she clasped a hand over her mouth.

"Forgive me," he said softly after a moment of silence.

She was frozen there, unable to do anything except let the tears fall silently. She wasn't angry; it was just a feeling of utter hopelessness. She knew very well that Sherlock had as little control over this as she did. This was a government assignment, and goodness knows they wouldn't ask this of him unless it was necessary. The only choice he had in this matter was whether he would accept this assignment or become guilty of treason, with the best possible outcome being a very long prison sentence.

"I would never have done it, had I known," Sherlock continued. "If I'd known what was coming, I would have tried to…spare you. God, this is why I don't do this." He spoke the words through clenched teeth.

Molly squeezed her eyes shut, gulping painfully and trying to keep her weeping quiet, unable to speak yet.

"I never should have given in and kissed you, or asked you here," he said, sounding furious at himself. "And it was pure selfishness that I even showed my face here tonight after learning of this mission. I should have been kind enough to slight you…rudely stand you up and make you hate me enough to be glad if I disappeared and never came back again."

There was more silence as Molly quickly wiped at her face and eyes, trying to compose herself enough to turn and face him again. When she did turn, she was surprised to see him standing at the edge of the road, arm raised in the air to hail a cab.

"I'll fetch you a cab home, Molly," he said in a resigned tone, not turning to look at her. "And I'll say goodnight and goodbye."

"Sherlock."

Speaking his name prompted him to hazard a look.

"Just stop," she commanded softly, and he lowered his arm.

At this moment, the record switched inside the dance hall, and the familiar notes of the Righteous Brothers' _Unchained Melody_ came floating out onto the dimly lit street.

Molly gave him a watery smile as she raised an arm and reached her hand out toward him. "Dance with me," she whispered.

Sherlock shut his eyes for a moment, obviously hurting as deeply as she was, but also conflicted as to what would save _her_ the most pain. But when his eyes opened again, he didn't hesitate in walking over and wrapping her in the intimate embrace of a dance. As he did, he released a soft sigh of relief, or frustration, or perhaps just pain…Molly wasn't sure which, but she held him as tight as possible, hoping to ease whatever emotion he was feeling.

The words cut deep; those unnervingly appropriate lyrics that floated into the night air along with the melody that guided their feet in slow but steady motion.

"Molly, I'm sorry I won't be-"

"Shh!" She instantly silenced him, not wanting to hear any more apologies or discussion of what wouldn't be. "Please just talk to me about what you'll do when you get back."

"Molly…" He leaned his head down a little and resting his cheek against her temple. "I want you to be happy."

"I will be." She pulled her head back and gazed at him with fire in her eyes. " _We_ will be!"

Their kiss was slow and sweet, infused with promise, as well as their lingering sadness, as they swayed together in the dim light. And somewhere in the depth of their two hearts, Molly had succeeded in striking the match and sparking something. It was small, but it burned steadily. And perhaps, even with time, it wouldn't burn out.

It was a lovely little flame of _hope._


End file.
